Claimed by the Beast Bundle (23 page)

The howl that burst from Crystal’s throat was like nothing man or beast had ever heard.

Chapter 12

Crystal writhed and thrashed as Clover poured the concoction. Her thoughts blanked out, replaced instead by a blinding agony. All she could see were flashes of red and white. She knew, somewhere deep inside, that her body was contorting and trying to find a way to escape. She wasn’t controlling it anymore.

The pressure of falling liquid stopped but the pain didn’t. It spread from her skin deeper into her body. Her muscles cramped and strained, fighting each other to the point they burst and split. A new pressure fell on her, smearing the scalding fluid across her body to cover her from head to toe.

She snapped at the hands when they wiped the soup across her face. It felt like acid that was eating away at her skin and working its way inside to tear her apart one layer of flesh at a time. She was panting, growling, and yipping, pulling the fumes from the soup and her blistered flesh into her aching lungs.

Clover’s words whispered in the back of what remained of her mind, reminding her that she could give up anytime. She could die, and let the witch have her remains for whatever her sick needs were. She could feel her body fighting and struggling against the catastrophic damage being done to it. All she had to do was stop fighting. Just let go and it would be over. What happened to her body after that wouldn’t matter; she’d be dead.

Crystal hurt too bad to die. She jerked her head back and forth, shaking it. She wouldn’t give up like this. She couldn’t. Sure, death would be one way to beat the pain but it wouldn’t just mean that she couldn’t be hurt anymore: it would mean that it beat her. She’d never run from a confrontation. Never backed down from a problem. She wouldn’t let her first time be her last time.

The stew—or acid, as she thought of it—sank deeper into her body. Her bones ached as the heat began to reach them. Her body was twitching as the cramped and torn muscles fought. Dimly she could hear somebody saying something. People were talking. About her? Probably. Taunting her, probably. Making fun of her. Admitting that they hoped she died so they wouldn’t be stuck with a fat girl hanging out with them.

A vision of Hank’s bright blue eyes floated through her mind. His eyes weren’t laughing; they were deep. Intense. Caring. He wanted her. He felt her and understood that they were meant for each other.

A new searing pain exploded out from her stomach and left her body contorted into a tighter cramp than before. Her arms and legs ached as tendons stretched and started to rip and pull free. Her muscles split, stressed beyond endurance. The thing in her belly continued to writhe, as though it were alive and chewing her guts apart from the inside.

“
Let me out!
”

Crystal felt the words in her head and she could taste the primal fury behind them. She wasn’t even sure if they were words, or just how she translated the growl. Her body jerked again as the thing inside of her jerked, lending weight to the command.

She wanted to help it. She wanted to claw at her stomach and rip the burnt and ruined flesh aside so it could escape. It didn’t matter if that didn’t make any sense; it was what she wanted to do. Her hands tugged against the vines, straining to break them so she could stop the agony.

She felt more than heard another growl. It sounded different. She couldn’t make sense of it, other than to hear the menace and hate in it. Yet she sensed it wasn’t directed at her. Had it even come from inside her, or was it from somewhere else? Someone—or something—else?

Her back arched, thrusting her belly and hips up towards the stars. She felt the pressure against her skin. There was something inside her. Something struggling to get out. She howled again, her raw throat spraying droplets of blood.

She had no idea how she knew, but the second monster inside her attacked the first. They grappled inside her, fighting without regard for the pain they caused her. She remembered someone saying something about dominant blood, but this was something else. Something impossible. Something beyond anything she’d ever imagined. A quick dip in a bath of molten lava would have hurt less.

Her entire being centered around one purpose. Her entire life had been reduced to needing to get the monster out of her. It didn’t matter if she spilled her guts doing it. She threw herself against her bonds and rubbed the already loose skin until it broke and made them even more slippery. Still they were too tight; she couldn’t pull her hands through them. She grunted and hissed through her teeth, struggling while the battle inside her continued.

“
I can give you strength
,” the first monster promised. “
You’ll never be trapped again!
”

An answering growl from the second launched a new round of tremors in her belly that left her struggling for breath. It was a tempting offer, if only for the purpose of getting rid of the things tormenting her.

She jerked her eyes open but saw only blackness. Her eyes had been scalded and ruined by the witch’s soup too. That was a small concern next to the battle for her soul. If the monsters could speak to her, could she speak to them?

She tried to relax her breathing long enough to make a word. Any word. All she could do was pant and hiccup. Tiny noises that didn’t do any good. Her throat was ruined, the muscles torn and strained beyond use.

How, then, did the things inside her speak? Especially since she couldn’t make out the voices around her. Hank and Ember and that swamp bitch who did this to her.

“
Get out of my body
!” Crystal thought. She put as much strength into the words as she could, but she was met with a mocking bestial laughter.

“
You’re a worthless breeder, not a true hunter. It’s not yours to command anymore.
”

If she had control over her breathing, she would have gasped at the words. Instead, Crystal fought back the wave of despair that threatened to drown her. She could feel them fighting, feel the blood attacking each other and destroying the battleground, her body, in the process. She jerked her head back and forth again, fighting to deny what she’d heard.

The monster was going to win. The Beast. The creature that had bitten her and tried to rape her. To breed her. His blood was stronger. Dominant. He would take control. And worse, she realized. The Beast wasn’t really dead. His spirit was in her, ready to take control. He’d reshape her body, probably even change her from a girl to a boy. He loathed everything about her, including her femininity.

Hot tears ran down her cheeks and stung the bubbled skin of her face. Beast, wolf, and witch—all a load of shit. She’d never had a choice. She was doomed the moment the Beast claimed her.

A tug in her body distracted her. Then another, as though something was trying to rip her open again. Even the pain was starting to grow distant and muted. Was this it? Was she dying finally? Was she letting go? Or would letting go mean that she beat the Beast? Was that the best she could hope for, to die and take it with her?

It had taken the entire pack to kill the Beast before, and even then she’d had to help them. Now the blood of the wolf in her didn’t stand a chance. It wasn’t strong enough. It couldn’t fight the battle alone.

Crystal jerked her eyes open again, not realizing that she’d closed them. Faint specks of blurry light burst into her brain. She was still healing. Her vision was coming back, although slowly. And if she could heal, she wasn’t dead. And neither was the blood of the wolf. She could help it. Somehow.

“
Let me help you
,” Crystal thought to the less aggressive monster inside her. “
Show me what to do.
”

The wolf growled and was attacked. She felt the Beast’s fury and its vengeance. The wolf was losing but she didn’t know what to do or how to help. This wasn’t like before, where she could distract it. It wasn’t a physical fight and even had it been, she was tied up. No, this was a battle inside her. A battle of blood and will.

Crystal squeezed her eyes shut and forced her attention inside. She plunged herself into the pain she’d been trying to ignore and felt it hit her again. She felt the agony of a thousand muscle tears and twice as many bursting blisters. The pain wasn’t her objective. She accepted it and moved on, focusing deeper on the battleground inside her.

Her muscles were still beyond her control but she began to feel how the Beast’s blood moved and attacked. The wolf fought back but had to retreat along organs and veins. It seemed like more of a lesson from her history teacher on a historic map of a battle than something her biology teacher would have taught. She felt the Beast’s blood throughout her body, rebuilding and changing her while the wolf focused on the fight in her abdomen. She studied and reacted, knowing intuitively how to send her own blood into the fight.

As before, she distracted the Beast and gave the wolf a chance to fight back. She pushed against it, coming from behind the hardened clots in her belly. The Beast called on its reserves scattered throughout her body when the wolf counter-attacked. The blood raced through her veins, making her heart beat so fast she feared it would burst from her weakened ribs.

As fast as her heart hammered and as fierce as the Beast was, it was too spread out and had to retreat. She and the wolf surrounded it and drove it back until it was collected together in a dense mass that would not be denied.

Crystal knew this fight would continue forever. The Beast was too strong; it couldn’t be killed. It couldn’t be reasoned with. It would hide inside her and build up its strength each time until it could rise up and take her. She would fight this battle again and again, but it would be smarter next time. She had to kill it now, or let it win.

“
I need your help
,” Crystal thought to the wolf. “
Become a part of me, or let me become a part of you.
”

Her body slumped onto the wooden bars as the barrier between her blood and the wolf’s disappeared. She collapsed, stunned by the release of pressure inside her. Her heart slowed from the frantic hammering it had been doing and left a dull ache behind.

Was that it? The Beast was still there and, she could tell, about to try again. But she felt different. Stronger. More at peace. She remembered her hands and what she had to do. “Please,” she whispered aloud as she pulled against the vines.

Her hands cramped and popped, bones shifting as she jerked on them. Her arms slipped free, pulling through where before she’d been unable to do so. Sparing it no thought, she slammed her right hand into her belly and felt something rough against her healing skin. Sharp pricks pierced her flesh where her fingers should have been. She dug deeper, parting the skin, and pulled across her belly to leave jagged gashes through skin and muscle.

She plunged her other hand into the wound and pushed her fingers between her slippery insides. She found the dense mass and clutched it in her hand. She yanked it out, tearing the connecting tissue that bound it to her and pulled her hand free.

She felt the loss instantly. The Beast was gone. Gone with him was her ability to shrug off the many injuries she’d received over the past week. She sagged against the wooden supports and her arms collapsed to her sides. Her eyelids fluttered open to blind her with the morning sun streaming through the trees. She stared, clinging to the warmth and the light even though the trees and cottage grew blurry until they faded into all colors and none. Her fingers relaxed and fell open, letting the peach-sized clot of blood slip from her grasp.

###

**Part Four**

Chapter 1

She walked through the muddy ground on the mounded ridge and crouched low. She watched the deer as it swam across the channel of water. The doe’s front hoof splashed as the bottom rose to meet it. She guessed the deer was two years old, based on its size. She was wary enough to look around, but not experienced enough to see the wolf crouching between the trees.

The doe turned and began to climb out of the water. Her hooves squelched in the sucking mud, slowing her. The wolf rose, knowing her time was now. She sprang around the trunk of the tree, her rear claws digging deep in the mud and kicking the wet dirt high into the ground.

The doe jerked her head around and dropped low so her belly touched the water again. She blew and dug her hooves in while her front shoulder dropped so she could turn away from the wolf. The water and mud slipped, making the doe lose her footing. Her hindquarters hit the water and softened the blow, but it put her reactions off and caused a fatal delay.

The doe sensed escape to land was doomed so she turned and tried to take to the water. The wolf bore down on her, changing course and slamming into the deer even as the hoofed animal splashed deeper. The doe fell in the water and scrambled back to her feet, bleating her panic. The wolf’s jaws clamped down on the doe’s neck and crushed together.

The doe struggled but the water blunted the striking hooves. Unable to draw in any air, her strength faded fast. The wolf tipped the doe over as soon as she sensed the doe’s strength was failing and put her weight on it to seal the deer’s fate. The doe thrashed a few more times and then shuddered and went still.

The wolf shook her head, ensuring that the doe was dead. She couldn’t feel her heartbeat in her mouth, nor did she feel any tension in the doe’s muscles. Satisfied, she dragged the doe out of the water and onto the muddy bank. She looked around, searching for any scavengers or predators that might think to steal her kill. Seeing nothing, she turned to the side of the carcass and bit down. She closed her eyes to keep the gore from blinding her as she feasted. Her sharp teeth pierced the fur and flesh and she let the first spray of blood across her tongue.

Her senses exploded and she snorted. She was starving and she needed the meal. Her body was weak and aching. She snapped her jaws again but felt no resistance, only air. She stretched, reaching out and trying again. Nothing.

Crystal blinked her eyes open and saw the flickering shadows across a ceiling made of vines, branches, and weathered wooden planks. Her throat ached and her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. Her lips were puffy and even licking them proved they were chapped and dry.

“Crys!”

Crystal moved her head enough so that gravity took over and it flopped to the side. A shirtless Hank was next to her in three long strides. He reached down and rubbed her cheek with his strong hand.

Crystal tried to smile but it hurt her lips. She gave up and let herself sag against whatever she was laying on. She guessed it was Clover’s bed since she could see a wall above her head and the other wall behind her.

“You scared me,” he said with a soft and raspy voice.

She opened her mouth to try to respond but he shook his head and pressed his fingers to her lips. She kissed them and lay still, too tired to protest.

“Give her this,” Clover said from somewhere behind Hank. Crystal couldn’t see around her broad-shouldered savior and didn’t have the energy to try. “She must eat.”

Hank turned away from her and then twisted back, holding another one of the witch’s bowls. Crystal’s eyes widened and she tried to shake her head. She’d had enough of Clover’s brews and concoctions and misery!

Clover stepped around Hank and looked down at her. She studied Crystal’s face and then said, “It’s warm, not hot.”

Crystal narrowed her eyes and then grunted. She winced, her dry throat feeling like it was stretching and splitting open from the simple sound. Hank came to the rescue, dropping down to one knee beside the organic bed and gently slipping a hand under her head to tilt it up. He brought the bowl to her lips and nodded encouragement until she parted her lips. He placed the edge of the bowl against them and slowly let the warm broth spill into her mouth.

The smell and feel of the warm liquid chased the shadows away. She found the strength to lean forward more and capture more of the soup. She swallowed the broth down, feeling each tiny shred of meat and each fiber of vegetable mixed into it. It was salty and wonderful, reminding her of a gritty chicken broth.

She saw Clover moving and tried to tilt her head up. She sloshed some of the soup, making it run down her chin and neck. Hank got the message and pulled the bowl back out of her way in time for her to watch Clover pull back a blanket made of grasses and tiny vines woven together. Crystal felt the cooler air cause her nipples to crinkle and stiffen. Her breath hissed through her nose as she glanced up at Hank. He smiled down at her, his eyes fixed on her face.

Crystal blushed and swallowed the mouthful of soup and licked her lips. The salty broth stung but it felt good at the same time. Her throat was lubricated and even the stinging in her sinuses began to abate. She remembered all that she’d been through and the countless chances Hank had to see her body. If he was still there and still helping her, he didn’t care what size dress she wore. He really was perfect.

“You are weak,” Clover said.

Crystal looked at her and let her eyes narrow. She cleared her throat to test her voice and then tried to say, “I know I’m—”

Crystal frowned and took a few breaths to steady herself. She could barely make the words come out.

“Like I said, you are weak,” the witch repeated. “Your spirit is strong—one of the strongest I’ve seen—but your body is burnt up.”

Crystal wanted to scream at her that she burned her.

“What you did was amazing,” Hank agreed. “I can’t imagine doing something like that.”

“Ama—”

“Hush,” Clover chided her. “Save your strength.”

Crystal had the strength to scowl. She wanted to ask questions and to talk. She knew she should be extremely thankful to Clover, but the witch was unpredictable and bossy enough she rubbed her the wrong way. “What. Happened?”

Hank frowned and glanced at Clover. The witch shrugged and said, “You know better than we do. We saw you struggling and carrying on. You changed, in part, many times. That’s how you got your hands free and were able to cut yourself so you could remove that tumor.”

“Tumor?” Crystal breathed. She jerked her head to the side. “The Beast!”

Clover nodded. “He’s been taken care of.”

Crystal let out a breath and lowered her head back to the mass of soft grass that served as a pillow. She smiled and felt, for the first time in days, like there might be a future for her after all.

“More?” Hank asked as he lifted the bowl. “You should eat—you’re wasting away.”

Crystal smiled and nodded. She knew better—she was a heifer—but Hank was so sweet.

He helped her pick her head up and let her sip more of the broth. It tasted divine as she did everything short of inhale it. She glanced down when it began to thin out and noticed, for the first time, that the residue left in the bowl wasn’t a golden hue of chicken broth, but a reddish brown. She stopped and pulled her head back, spilled another dribble down her cheek until Hank righted the bowl and pulled it away.

It wasn’t chicken soup she’d been drinking, unless the witch had used the chicken’s blood to thin the soup.